What a Drag It Is Getting Old

Remember before the Internet?

Well, I do. If you were a quote-smart kid-unquote (i.e your parents were some kind of weird antisocial brainiacs), you were aware of the existence of such things as "personal computers," and possessed a vague foreshadowing that these exotic machines might one day break through the heretofore unbreached frontiers of geekdom and draw Mr. and Mrs. Everyfamily into the warm glow of their electronic embrace.

Then you shook yourself a little and said, "Naaaaaaah."

However, as it happens, the dang thing is just about everywhere these days (unless of course you work for a government agency). What isn't on the Internet? Everything is. Everything.

The quickest example to spring to my mind, just at the moment, is the lyrics to Cocteau Twins songs.

To be perfectly honest, my perception of the universe as I know it (or heretofore knew it) is rather shaken. I guess I was about eighteen, nineteen years old when I first became aware of the Cocteau Twins; but one of the most basic functions of the Cocteau Twins - as I understood it - is to provide lyrics with the profound meaning of which you cannot possibly find any faults, inasmuch as you can't begin to understand what the heck it is that they're singing.

Such was my life, from the time I was eighteen or nineteen until the age of forty; and readily can you believe what a happy, carefree existence it was. Then you go and find out that one of your favorite songs of all time contains such a line as

"Tis the lucky lucky penny penny penny penny"

in the midst of a whole bunch of other words that also don't make any sense, and, well, you get a little discouraged. All those years of smoking pot in college for NOTHING.

The Lost Berliner

Most people's kids bring home an abandoned baby bird or puppy or squirrel at some point. Leave it to Eric to bring home a German.

This poor kid is an exchange student at Eric and Katie's school, and today was his first day. He's in Eric's Algebra II class. There was some miscommunication with his host mother, so he tried to find a bus home, but of course he's in an unfamiliar city and an unfamiliar country. So he walked here with Eric and Katie, who couldn't find a bus either (they're transfer students).

It's not an unmanageable walk, but it's not short. "How far is that, anyway?" I asked Eric. "About four miles?"

"Maybe two," he said.

"Oh, I'm sure it's more than that," I insisted. "It's got to be nearly four, anyway."

"I don't think it's more than three," he said.

"Three and a half," I told him, "and that's my final offer."

We shook on it.

Anyway, three and a half miles, in Texas late summer heat, can't be pleasant for an uninitiated Northern European, so of course I offered to drive the kid the rest of the way home. He wasn't sure where the house is - he just got here two days ago - but remembered the address, so we google-mapped it, and good grief, it's halfway to Dripping Springs. I'm not sure why he's going to my kids' school at all.

Traffic's always a bitch, so I didn't get the poor guy home until nearly seven. His host mother came running out of the house, out of breath. "He should never have tried to get on a bus," she said. "He doesn't have my phone number. He doesn't have anybody's phone number. The police are on their way. - I mean, thank you. But he is in so much trouble!"

Her dog, concerned with matters of more immediate material interest, calmly jumped into my car.

I hope the kid gets a break. I remember how huge Austin was when I first moved here in 1986 to go to UT - at the age Eric is now, actually - and it's a hell of a lot huger now. I came here from Madison, Alabama; whether this is more or less of a foreign country than Germany is probably open for debate.

At least everyone is now safely back where they belong, because I did not, in fact, bring the dog home.